Storming S.H.I.E.L.D. Alone!

It was nearly noon that day.

People across New York looked up in alarm to see three enormous metal fortresses steadily rising into the vast blue sky, casting huge shadows that blotted out the sun.

Confusion, oppression, fear, and other emotions brought vehicles and pedestrians to a standstill throughout the streets as they watched the three steel carriers form a triangle high in the air.

On the expressway leading into the city, a black Ford carrying Steve and the others sped at full throttle toward the point directly beneath the Helicarriers.

"Sam, drive faster," Steve urged, his left hand still tightly gripping a bald man in a suit with silver-rimmed glasses.

With Captain America holding him and the other two surrounding him, the suited man did not dare move. Faced with such overwhelming power, even a one-in-ten-thousand chance of escape did not exist.

Sitting in the car, sweat poured from his forehead, and his pale face was filled with terror as he said with difficulty, "Guys, I’ve told you everything I know. Where are you taking me now?"

Steve did not hide it from him. "It’s simple. None of us has the authority to enter the Helicarriers, so we need your iris and fingerprints to pass the intelligent system."

The suited man’s lips twitched slightly, his face turning even whiter as he said despairingly, "Are you demons?! Pierce will kill me for this!"

"The current director of S.H.I.E.L.D., a Hydra spy—Alexander Pierce?"

Steve could not help laughing. Natasha and Sam in the front seats smiled as well.

"Don’t worry. He probably can’t even look after himself right now… Watch out!"

Alarm bells blared in Steve’s mind. He suddenly ducked, dragging the suited man down hard with his left hand.

But he was still half a beat too slow!

Pfft!

The left-side window shattered as if it had exploded. Then the suited man’s head burst from the outside in like a watermelon, red and white pulp splattering all over the car.

A sniper round!

Steve was the first to realize it. His hand moved away from the headless corpse’s waist, while his other hand had already raised the shield from his back toward the direction of the incoming fire.

The instant he completed that movement, a dense burst of rifle ammunition came raining in. A few rounds struck the car’s outer shell, but more clanged against the shield before dropping away in dented, useless free fall.

Before Steve could breathe a sigh of relief after the gunfire stopped, Natasha in the passenger seat cried out, "Careful, there’s one ahead too!"

As if answering her warning, the Ford suddenly shook violently. Carried by enormous backward momentum, its speed plummeted from over a hundred kilometers per hour to zero within seconds—

At the instant the car crashed into something and stopped, Steve pressed his back against the rear seat and kicked fiercely at the roof’s sunroof with both feet, sending the entire cover flying away in ruins.

Bracing one hand against the seat and pushing off with his palm, his tall body flipped upside down as he leaped through the opening.

After exiting the car, Steve flipped over and landed firmly atop the Ford. His sharp gaze swept forward, and his steadfast, fearless heart was instantly thrown into turmoil.

The Ford had collided with an army-green jeep, and the fronts of both vehicles had been smashed to pieces.

But that was not the important part. The important part was that a young man in his thirties stood atop the jeep as well!

The young man wore a cloth mask, with dirty blond curls hanging messily over his face. Between them, a pair of cold, indifferent eyes could be seen.

He wore a uniform jacket and combat boots, while his mechanical metal left arm drew particular attention. Both hands held an old-fashioned AK47.

"It’s you. There’s no mistake… Bucky." Steve took a deep breath, excitement appearing on his face.

Since they had been separated near the end of World War II, both had experienced death. More than half a century later, they had finally met again.

Yet the two men who had once fought side by side and faced death together now stood opposed on different sides. Was God playing a joke on them?

Steve let out a breath and was about to step forward.

The familiar man before him had called out the familiar name, "Bucky."

Within the Winter Soldier’s heart, stripped of personality, and his mind filled with mission directives, a faint ripple of shining memory finally stirred in that long-silent darkness.

But it quickly dimmed and vanished.

Expressionless, the Winter Soldier mechanically raised the AK47 with both hands, pulled the trigger, and fired at Steve, his former comrade standing less than five meters away.

S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters.

Although the three Helicarriers had taken off from here, they had gradually veered off course as they continued ascending toward the city center. They were now thousands of meters above the ground from the headquarters building.

At that moment, a silver-haired young man in casual clothes arrived at the main entrance with both hands in his pockets, as if taking a leisurely stroll out of boredom.

Kyle raised his eyes and looked around at the Stone Statues by the entrance, one holding a shield and the other a sword. He shook his head, deeply feeling the irony.

He took several steps forward and reached the tightly shut main entrance. Infrared scanners automatically detected and identified his face and irises.

Then a mechanical notification beeped. "This user does not possess authorization to enter headquarters. Please leave immediately!"

"Fine." Kyle murmured, "They even deleted and altered my access privileges. My own things have all been taken over and used by others."

But Viss was not by his side for the time being. This time, he had brought only one Venom.

"Then there’s nothing to feel bad about." Kyle raised his left hand. Black liquid surged out as if boiling, forming a hardened membrane that covered his entire arm.

Three sharp, razor-like Dark Claws extended from between the bones of his fingers at the end of his fist, their tips silently resting against the three-centimeter-thick tempered glass security door.

Inside S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, in the Director’s office near the top floor.

Pierce stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing into the distance. The three Helicarriers were still ascending steadily, making his fists clench and loosen repeatedly as sweat filled his palms.

Overthrow every nation and power on Earth, let Hydra rule and change the world—now, only this final step remained.

Hydra had spent years lying low, enduring, and preparing. All the blood, sweat, and effort it had poured in were for this very moment of terror across the world!

Thus, Pierce felt both anticipation and nervousness. At this moment of extreme tension, the telephone on his desk suddenly rang.

Pierce strode over. Seeing that the call was from headquarters downstairs, he picked up the receiver and asked in a low voice, "What is it?"

"Director, h-he…" The female receptionist’s words were broken and halting. The communication signal was clear; it was fear that made her tongue and teeth tremble uncontrollably.

A bad feeling rose in Pierce’s heart. He barked, "What? Speak clearly!"

Terrified, the female receptionist finally managed to say a complete sentence. "T-the Symbol of Peace is here!"

"What?!" Pierce sucked in a breath of cold air. His round, ruddy face turned deathly pale, and he nearly collapsed into his office chair.

The thing he feared most had finally happened.

At that moment, in the first-floor lobby of S.H.I.E.L.D.

The tempered glass security doors remained tightly shut, except a triangular opening large enough for three people to pass through had appeared in the middle. The cut surface was as smooth as a mirror, while the severed triangular pane lay inward on the floor.

Treating the triangular glass like an ordinary carpet, Kyle withdrew his Dark Claws. A large group of suited agents surrounded him, while even more armed military security personnel converged from all sides.

I’m almost recovered. I’ll make it up in a couple of days.